


House Trap

by moonlightsdreaming



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, kind of resident evil influenced, really resident evil influenced my bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightsdreaming/pseuds/moonlightsdreaming
Summary: Nicolas Dillon is a detective with a shady past from the north. Darnell "Coach" Coleman is his good hearted partner. They find themselves at the scene of a third homicide on the same road in the outskirts of Savannah, Georgia.
Relationships: Ellis/Nick (Left 4 Dead)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. Mansion

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time writing for this fandom, so please excuse any OOC behavior, I really tried and will continue to!

Nicolas Dillon eased off the gas as they approached the flashing lights of the state patrol’s vehicle. His partner glanced up from his burger and gave a soft groan. It took a second, but as they pulled up on the other side of the road, Nick figured out what got Coach’s attention.

A News 10 van was parked beside the yellow tape.

“Christ, already?” Nick hissed between his clenched teeth. Coach sighed beside him and wrapped the burger back up, setting it on the dash. The door was open the second Nick put the vehicle into park and he stepped out, the car lifting with the massive weight lifted. Nick would normally have started to tease him, but the sight of the van made his skin itch. He _hated_ journalists. He _hated_ reporters. Who cared about the truth when they could demean and crap all over the hard work they did?

With a snort, Nick followed the older man out, and while Coach put himself between the reporter—some chick that was already moving their way with the camera on them—and the familiar truck of the state patrol. He had a feeling it was the same trooper from before, and when he caught sight of the light brown curls under the hat, he knew he was right. The trooper turned and Nick’s stomach did an annoying twist as those bright baby blues focused on him.

“Hey y’all!” the southerner shouted happily, tipping his hat as Nick approached. “I thought it’d be the two of you,” he stretched out ‘you,’ making it sound like it had a hard w. Nick hated the accents down in the south, but something about this kid’s voice had him craning his head toward him anyway.

“Of course, we handled the previous two,” Nick muttered. He ducked under the tape and walked over to the slightly shorter man. Coach gave a nod to the reporter and cut her off before she could speak, quickly following Nick under the tape and heading over to the two.

Nick didn’t have to look far to find the reason they came out this far south. The tell-tale sheet splayed over the body in question was as clear as day. He moved over to it and lifted it up just enough for him to look. It was bad. The same way the previous two victims were. They had been beaten and torn up so badly that they became, as Nick pointed out last time, ground beef. Clothes were left behind, sure, but they were in pieces. The first body they found was splayed out on the hot road in the middle of summer, and by the time someone found it and called them, they could not figure a single thing out until the coroner had finished the autopsy—what little they could do.

The first was a young man, roughly in his twenties, Caucasian, brown hair. His cause of death couldn’t be narrowed down to one thing: he had been torn apart, clawed, ripped, even _bitten_ that the coroner lost count of individual injuries on the report. An animal, everyone’s first thought was, and that’s what they were going to put officially until a month later the second was found.

Female, thirties, blonde, had been pregnant at one point in her life, was killed the same way as the man, but neither one had anything to identify them. But this time, the female was found before decomp could take her as far as the first. The coroner found human nails—not her own—embedded inside her wounds. A _human_ had clawed her to death. The case was quickly labeled homicide and so was the first—now they had a John and Jane Doe, and nobody knew anything about them.

This third one, one week after the second, five weeks after the first, was clearly a man. He had been recently killed; the blood had coagulated but was still bright. He hadn’t been dumped; he had been eviscerated here. And as Nick scanned the area, there was no weapons, no tire marks, nothing that showed the killer even left. Nick walked past the corpse and under the other side of the tape, scanning the ground. Nothing—no footprints—

 _Wait,_ Nick narrowed his eyes and walked further away, at least four yards away, were footprints and handprints, like they _leapt_ from the body to this spot, and as Nick glanced into the foliage of the forest they stood beside, he could tell from the broken branches that the killer most definitely went this way. But they didn’t walk or run—they were jumping?

He stood, wiping his forehead from the beads of sweat that gathered there. The summer sun was hell, and he hated it. He hated the south. He went back to the body, rubbing his nose with a knuckle. He was used to death—even rotting corpses in the middle of the summer—but he saw the young trooper glancing off to the side, slightly pale. He was a rookie, clearly. Coach and Nick knew this smell, came too familiar with it, but sometimes it still took him off balance.

“So?” Coach asked as Nick approached him. “Anything?”

“Yeah, the suspect has fuckin’ springs in his legs. He just jumped off into the forest,” Nick glanced that way, speaking low so only he, Coach and the trooper could hear. The annoying reporter kept leaning over the tape, trying to hear.

“What?” Coach eyed him, and then went over to see for himself.

The rookie, the state trooper, glanced up at Nick from under the bill of his cap. “F’real?” he asked.

Nick nodded at him. “Yeah—how long have you been out here, uh--?” He paused like he tried to remember the name. Of course, he knew it. He couldn’t forget the name of the owner of those damned piercing eyes.

The boy smiled toothily, crookedly, charmingly— _stupidly,_ Nick added, trying to ignore it.

“It’s Ellis McKinney, sir,” he said happily.

“Right, Ellis. Knock that sir shit off. I’m not your boss. It’s Nick.”

“Yessir,” Ellis grinned, and it was _teasing,_ like the young man _knew_ it got to Nick. Like he knew how Nick’s stomach flipped. _Bullshit, he’s just full of himself,_ Nick told himself, turning back to the body.

“When is the forensics due out?”

“Ah, he’s comin’ in ‘bout…” He stopped, checking his watch, “should be here any minute, actually.”

Nick glanced past the truck and down the road. He couldn’t hear a car coming, so he figured they were running late.

“Excuse me!” The woman called, waving her hand to get Nick’s attention.

“Y’shouldn’t leave a lady hangin’, Nick,” Ellis said with a devious grin, “ain’t gentlemanly, after all.”

Nick glanced back at the shorter, younger man with a sneer. He didn’t talk to reporters and was relieved when Coach returned, shaking his head. He was just as puzzled as Nick was.

“Got it, got it,” the older man sighed, heading over to the woman. Nick watched, leaning back against the trooper’s truck beside the rookie, pulling out a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He tapped one out, flipped it into his mouth and lit it with his old lighter. He took a drag just as the woman began to talk.

“Hi, my name is Rochelle Hampton,” she started, holding her hand out. Coach shook it.

“Darnell Coleman,” he said simply, “but my friends call me Coach.”

She smiled, flashing a good-looking smile that Nick found himself eying a little more than he ought to.

“Why do they call you that?”

“I teach ball down at the Beverly’s Home for At Risk Teens,” Coach stood up straight, proud, “in between cases.”

“That’s big of you,” she exclaimed. Nick blew out smoke, making a note that she lacked the local dialect unlike the two others with them. The cameraman hadn’t spoken, so he had no idea about him.

“It ain’t much, but it’s somethin’ I can do,” he gave a nod.

“So—what’s with this case?” she asked, leaning a little more over the tape. “Isn’t this the third time you’ve been called out here? Homicide? Do you have any suspects?”

“Ain’t answerin’ at this point,” Coach said easily. “We’ll know later. So why don’tcha pack up and head off, and we’ll give ya a call when we’re good?”

She laughed. “Look, I get it, you guys just showed up. But you can see the camera isn’t even _on_ right now. I’m not recording anyone. So… how about a little bit of info?”

As Coach continued to deny any information, Nick glanced back at the man beside him.

Ellis was young—he looked way too young to be where he was. And he was so… _quiet_ today. Normally, the kid couldn’t stop talking, but today…

“What’s got your tongue, sport?” Nick asked, as casually and uncaring as he could. Because he didn’t _really_ care, it was just something to distract him.

“Huh?” Ellis looked over, blinking a few times in confusion. He gave a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh… My buddy Keith ain’t back yet. Guess I’m a lil’ concerned for ‘em.”

“Your buddy?”

“Partner,” Ellis nodded in reply.

“Wait, he left you alone here?”

Ellis jabbed a finger behind him, “naw, he just headed that way to take a piss and ain’t been back yet.”

Nick glanced the way he pointed, the way that the killer may have gone. He frowned, but he hadn’t heard anything weird, and if the man was out there, they would have certainly heard something.

“I called him up but he said he hadn’t found a good place to go yet, somethin’ ‘bout feelin’ watched.”

That got Nick’s attention back to the kid, and his brows knit together. He pushed away from the vehicle and listened as well as he could. It was quiet, not an animal or bird making a sound. There was no wind, nothing to make even the plants rustle. Ignoring the words of the two behind him, Nick’s skin began to crawl. He had just assumed this was another body they’d have to wait to find anything about, he hadn’t been thrilled to make it out this far from the city today, not when it was this hot. The heat had distracted him, lagged his brain behind, made him dumb.

Made him realize they should have been paying more attention.

“Coach!” Nick called, stepping away from the vehicle. He kept the cigarette between his index and middle finger, stopping at Coach’s side as the larger man looked his way.

“Ah—this is Detective Dillon, isn’t it?” The reporter—Rochelle—said, grinning bright eyed up at him. Her smile faltered at the expression on his face.

“Whassit now?” Coach turned to face him proper.

“It’s quiet.”

Coach raised an eyebrow. “An’?”

“Coach, it’s _quiet_.”

The emphasis seemed to help Coach’s brain catch up, another victim of the heat—seriously, why the hell was it _this hot_ so suddenly?

Coach turned, scanning the trees, the grass, the road, everywhere.

As soon as Coach turned to look at Nick, opened his mouth to reply, a bloodcurdling shriek rang through the air, causing all five people to jump. Nick unholstered his gun as did Coach, and Ellis yanked his truck’s door open, reaching for the shotgun that was left inside.

“What’s going on?” Rochelle asked, worry clear in her voice. Her cameraman had nearly dropped the camera, glancing around with a paling expression.

“Dunno, we’re gonna find out, stay here,” Coach said. He headed to the tree line with Nick at his heels—the latter paused to look at Ellis.

“Stay with the civvies,” he ordered, and Ellis gave a nod, moving closer to the two by the van.

Except as soon as they walked into the forest, there was another scream, this time from behind them.

Both detectives turned, looking back at the road. Ellis had gotten the two behind the tape and himself, raising his shotgun at some unseen person. They jogged back together, and both skidded to a stop as they stared past Ellis.

There was a person—is person even the right word? —crawling across the road, carefully, planning each place it planted its hands and feet. It wore a hoodie, so the face was difficult to see, but it was noticeably clear this person was _not_ okay.

“Stand up, put yer hands in the air!” Ellis ordered; gun still raised. Nick and Coach did he same.

“Stand up an’ put yer hands on the van!” Ellis again shouted.

But the hoodie clad man ignored him, and within seconds, let out another scream. He pushed off the ground and actually _flew_ threw the air at them, arms outstretched and aiming straight for the rookie.

_Bam!_

The shotgun blared and both Nick and Coach flinched, ears ringing from the closeness. The man had fallen and lay twitching on the ground.

“He—he ain’t—he ain’t _human_ ,” Ellis babbled, shaking. Coach grabbed Ellis’ shoulder, pushing the gun down.

“S’okay son, s’okay—” He stopped, moving to the twitching man and crouching, only to quickly stand back up. “What the shit—”

Nick looked between them before he stepped closer to the man. Ellis was right—whatever this was _couldn’t_ be human. The man’s skin was a deep grey, boils covered his arms and some had popped, oozing out green pus. His face was distorted, looking burned around the eyes. His teeth—with his mouth wide open—were sharp, and his nails, those hands that reached for Ellis were claws. Claws that could rip a human to shreds. They’d found their murderer.

Nick was at his car in seconds, grabbing the radio and calling in a shots fired at their location. The only reply he got was static. Confused, Nick continued to call in as Coach began to look over the creature.

It twitched as Coach rolled him over onto his back. The shotgun had done its duty across his chest, blood leaking from his wounds.

“Hey, I’m not getting any response from dispatch,” Nick called out.

“There’s no signal,” Rochelle called out, shakily as she tried her phone for the fifth time.

Another scream echoed and they all jumped, looking around. From the area the hoodied man—creature—came from, came rustling. A lot of it. Groans, screams, shrieks. “Back up!” Coach shouted at them, and Nick jogged to get back to the group. Together, the three kept the cameraman and reporter behind them as they headed back into the forest.

The things that came out of the trees on the other side were just as hideous as the one on the road. Except they looked far more like people and less like the one on the ground—these were messed up people, that was for certain. Coach and Nick shouted warnings, but they just charged them anyway. The three shot once each, but the hits did nothing to stop the charging masses.

“Run!” Coach hollered and they all turned, heading further into the forest. “Stay together!” He called again.

“Where are we goin’?!” Ellis asked from beside Coach.

“I got no clue, just run!”

So they did.

Suddenly, people—monsters—creatures—whatever they were—began to pop up from all sides. Rochelle ducked one’s outstretched arms, sprinting ahead of the men. It was only a second, but Nick saw something much like the one on the road _leap_ from the trees, grabbing the cameraman and taking him down into the tall grass.

“Steve!” Rochelle screamed, turning to run back to him.

“No!” Nick shouted at her, moving to grab at her arm, just as she reached the outstretched hand of her cameraman.

And took that hand with her as Nick yanked her from the monster tearing into Steve’s back.

Rochelle stared at the hand as she staggered, being pulled by Nick, and silently dropped it, her eyes wide with confusion and shock.

Nick didn’t say anything either, focusing on ahead of them, of the two silhouettes ahead of them that he followed.

“Up ahead! There’s a house!” Coach shouted.

“Hope they don’t shoot us for trespassing,” Nick sneered. The trees cleared and it was most certainly not just a _house_.

It was a mansion. A gigantic, at least four floors mansion. Old Victorian style it looked, but well kept.

“Hurry!” Ellis cried, stopping to let Nick and Rochelle pass him. He shot twice with the shotgun, reloading as he started to run backwards.

Coach was the first one to the large double doors, banging into it. He pounded loudly before he tried the knob and it swung open, allowing the four entrance. They didn’t hesitate.

They ran in, and Coach and Nick spun around to slam the doors shut, locking them. The _things_ outside rammed into the doors, banging loudly, screaming and clawing. The windows shook but held strong.

Coach sagged into the door, panting hard, as Nick ran a shaking hand through his hair. Rochelle had slid to a sit as soon as she entered, staring at the black and white tiled floor. Ellis, however, was trying his radio repeatedly, for anyone listening to pick up.

He only got static in response.

Nick stepped away from the door as he caught his breath, glancing around them. The foyer was large, with two gigantic staircases straight ahead of them leading to the next floors. Two doors were on their left, and two on their right. There was a red carpet that lined the floor from the doorway to the stairs, leading up. A large chandelier hung over their heads. The electricity worked.

“Hello?” Nick called. “Anyone home?”

His voice echoed, but he got no response.

The four glanced at each other, then back at the trembling front doors. They were safe for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this! I decided that, after playing L4D2 again thanks to the Last Stand update, I wanted to step my foot into the actual fandom. I never did back in the hayday, so I decided I would actually give it a shot.
> 
> I have no real idea where this story will go, I just got an idea and decided to write. I decided not to edit it too much because I deleted the first time I tried this. I just hope it is readable for you all.
> 
> So... I hope that you enjoyed it, and will continue reading this weird fic that even the writer has no idea where its going. But hey, we all need a little adventure in our lives, don't we?


	2. Foyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four catch their breath and come up with a plan.

Ellis sagged against the door, listening to the thumping of the monsters outside. The door was strong enough that I was only vibrations that he felt, not even close to breaking through. The windows, too, simply vibrated, but remained strong against the onslaught. Ellis rubbed his eyes with his wrist, pushing the bill of his cap up so he could wipe his forehead. He caught his breath the fastest of the four, lifting his head to look around. The foyer was huge as expected from the mansion, but it was still a surprise to the young man. The large black and white tiles stretched the entire area, with a bright red carpet going from the front door and up the stairs.

The stairs went up and then cut both ways to the second floor. Ellis looked up further and noticed he could see the next floor and a couple of doors up there. Downstairs, he looked around again. Four doors down here, two on each side. A little table next to the stairs held an ancient looking typewriter and pieces of paper. He finally brought his gaze to his companions.

The reporter—Rochelle—was on her knees, rocking as she stared at her hand. “This is not happening, this is _not happening,_ ” she whispered to herself repeatedly.

The two detectives were still catching their breath. Coach was leaning on the handrail of the large staircase, panting. Nicolas—Nick—had his hands on his hips, staring up at the ceiling as he gulped in air, calming down. Ellis stared at him, watching his Adam’s apple bob with each breath. Sweat trickled down his neck and Ellis swallowed audibly as it disappeared under his collar. The man lowered his head and grey, sharp eyes caught baby blues and Ellis sucked in a breath. The detective didn’t make a face at his staring being caught, but the man simply stepped forward, toward Coach.

Ellis pulled his cap down, shielding his eyes with a slight grin. The detective was far too good looking for his own good. He had a rough five o’clock shadow, sharp chin and strong jaw—masculine, that’s what Nick was.

“Hey, what’s the goddamn plan?” Nick asked Coach.

“Boy, watch your damn mouth,” Coach snapped back. “I ain’t got the slightest clue, alright?”

“Fuck,” Nick groaned. He started to look around the foyer they were in.

Ellis was quiet, unable to move his eyes as Nick tried his phone. Coach moved to Rochelle, gently patting her shoulder, and whispering calmly to her. Nick was getting fed up, repeatedly calling some number but only getting a no signal in response. Ellis watched the way his eyebrows knotted, fingers tapping rapidly on the screen. Ellis hadn’t seen this side of him, annoyed, frantic, worried, but he also hadn’t seen him outside looking at a crime scene aside from the first time Ellis laid eyes on the man.

It’d been months ago, Ellis was at some dark, dirty bar with Keith, the sort that they normally didn’t go to. Too serious, too much smoking, only those really wanting to drink away their sorrows showed up there. So, imagine Ellis’ surprise when he noticed a man sitting at the bar, ringed fingers tracing the top of the glass that his whiskey was in. He stared at nothing, replied to nobody except for another on the rocks, and then went back to staring off. Only after his third glass did he light up a cigarette, with his free hand resting on his forehead.

Ellis’ heart had jerked hard at the sight. The man was sad. It was clear, and all Ellis wanted to do was put a smile on his face. But Ellis was yanked out of the bar as Keith got bored with losing pool and they left. Ellis managed to talk Keith into going back a couple more times, but they must have come at the wrong times, because he never saw him again.

Until that first crime scene out on the highway, and Ellis was waiting for the detectives to show up. They did, and Ellis nearly fell over at the sight of the cleaned-up man approached him. There was a protective guard up on the detective’s face then, giving no hint to the sadness he put off at the bar. Ellis learned his name then and kept seeing him at the bar a secret to hold onto.

It was shame and sadness that overwhelmed him when, arriving at the second scene, that he hoped the detective would once again show up.

“Hey!” Bzzzt “Can—!” Ffshhhh “Me!”

Ellis jumped a mile, grabbing the radio on his shoulder. He pushed down and replied. “Keith?! That you man?! Where are you?!”

“Ellis—!”

All heads swiveled to stare at Ellis, and he frowned as the radio screeched for a moment.

“Hey! Keith!”

“Got! – Truck!” The reply came. “You?!”

“In a house! Just west’a the truck! I got the detectives and a civilian here!” Ellis shouted back. His voice made the creatures bang even harder.

“Can—hear!”

“Can’t? Can?” Ellis looked to the others, and they shrugged in reply. “Keith! We need help!”

“Hang—getting help!”

Ellis sagged at the words, rubbing his face. “Y’all, we’re gonna be okay, he’s getting hel—”

“Flat—pushin’ it! Be—while!”

Ellis groaned. “He’s drivin’ on the rim?”

“Well, shit,” Nick sighed.

Nick moved toward the typewriter, fingers gently gliding across the top of the glass that covered it and then looked down to the paper. Ellis moved closer to peek at them as well. They were two piles of cards, one pointing out that the ballroom and dining room was on hold for a wedding reception. The second set was the mansion’s ‘experience the 20s’ in a tour around the home. Besides those two rooms, the tour would lead them throughout the rest of the house. Both dates were for that day.

“Well, sittin’ around might not be a good idea, we should see if anyone needs us,” Coach said.

Ellis looked over and gave a nod. “We can help folks. Maybe they’re hidin’ and too scared to come out.”

Rochelle stood at last, wiping her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere without a gun.”

“Girl—” Coach squinted at her.

Nick laughed, reaching into his coat. He pulled out one of his pistols from its holster and headed over, handing it over.

She took it, looking the weapon over and held it firmly in her hands, finger on the side, rather than on the trigger. “Thanks,” she said, suddenly sounding much calmer.

“Nick, she prolly don’t have a license—”

“Right now? I don’t think anyone cares, Coach.”

The big man sighed, grunting. “Arright, let us think. I’m not real fond of those stairs, so we should split up—you two right, and we’ll go left,” he nodded to Rochelle. She moved to his side without complaint.

Nick shrugged, pulling his magnum from the other holster.

“We meet back here in fifteen, y’hear me? No later,” Coach said.

Nick pulled his sleeve back, looking at the watch and noting the time. Ellis glanced at his own— _4:43 pm._ “Got it,” Nick replied.

Coach and Nick approached each other then, gripping each other’s arms tightly before Coach nodded to Rochelle. The two headed to the double doors on the left, pushing them open and disappearing to the other side.

“Well? C’mon, kid,” Nick turned, heading to the first door on the right. He tried the knob, but it was locked. Ellis jogged to the next one, and again, met a locked door.

“Nope,” Ellis replied, moving back to him.

“Guess we’re going upstairs,” Nick shrugged, heading over to the stairs. He took them slowly, with Ellis a few steps behind him.


	3. Dining room - Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coach and Rochelle talk about some surprising information, while Nick and Ellis find something upstairs.

_4:44 pm_

Coach and Rochelle stepped into a large dining room. There was a long table starting from near the doors they stepped through to the other side of the room, beside a fireplace. More than a dozen of chairs was pushed in, and there were separate smaller tables in the corners of the room. Up above, a balcony could be seen where they noticed more tables, like the dining room itself were two stories itself. The tables were all set and left-over food decorated many of them. It didn’t appear anyone left in a rush, as all chairs were pushed in, but dirty plates and dishes were remaining. The food didn’t look old, either.

As Coach walked over to the table, scanning for anything of interest, Rochelle moved to the large windows on the left side of the room. Large hedges protected the bottom of the windows, but she could see outside reasonably fine. Those monsters—people, she realized, were walking around aimlessly. Many were dressed in fancy clothes, and Rochelle’s stomach twisted in recognition—two bridesmaids were clawing at each other. Their skin was grey, blood littered their dresses, hair a mess, and they ripped flesh off each other’s arms.

To the right side of the two, a man in a tuxedo abruptly leaned forward and vomited. Dark black blood poured out before he staggered away.

“What—what the _fuck_ —” Rochelle gagged, covering her mouth. She twisted to the side and dry heaved, barely able to keep herself from doing the same as the man outside.

“Girl, what are you doin’?” Coach asked, but it came out gentle and worried as he approached her. She pointed outside and Coach squinted past her. He took a step back, running a hand over his bald head.

“They—they’re supposed to be in here, aren’t they?” She looked up at Coach, tears in her eyes again. “What the _fuck_ is going on, Detective Coleman?”

“I ain’t got a clue,” he muttered, “and I told ya, call me Coach.”

She gave a rueful grin as she stood, keeping her back to the window. “I—I can’t believe this is happening. Steve and I—we were supposed to be investigating a woman linked to the chemical plant that had an explosion over a month ago up in Fairfield, Pennsylvania.”

Coach listened to her as he headed back to the other side, peering up at a large, ticking grandfather’s clock. “Heard about that,” he said, “but I thought the news said it was cleaned up already. Ain’tchu workin’ down here in Georgia? What’s that got to do with you?”

“That’s what they told everyone, but we got word that two employees directly involved in the explosion were sent on paid leave to Savannah.” Rochelle finally followed him, rubbing her face as she recounted the information. “Steve wanted to pursue it, but then a week later the first body was found, and we were told to go for that. After all, we just had rumors about the chemical plant, nothing concrete… I should have pushed for it, for him,” she wiped her eyes. “God, what am I going to tell his wife?”

“Let’s focus on gettin’ out of here before we think about tellin’ grim news, alright, baby girl?” He reached out to her with a big hand to her shoulder. She fell into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, and he nodded.

“Let’s keep lookin’.” He held her for a moment longer before they separated. The two then headed down to the fireplace, where Coach crouched to investigate the cold ash.

Rochelle moved to the door to the right. She tried the knob and it opened, letting her push it. “Coach?”

He looked up and nodded, heading over to her. The two slowly stepped out into the hallway. There were two paths to go, left and right. They could see three doors to the right, and no doors to the left. Coach chose left, and took point, keeping Rochelle safely behind him. They walked the few steps to the turn in the hallway and Coach stopped. The air reeked with blood, and Coach waved her back some. She took a few steps back, holding her gun at the ready. She glanced at her watch, biting her lip. _4:56._ They were due back to the foyer in three minutes.

Coach leaned forward and peeked around. A man laid on the ground, eyes open and unseeing, blood having dried around his body. A woman sat next to him, rocking back and forth slowly. Coach could tell that her skin had gone grey, and she was missing large chunks of flesh from her arms. Still, Coach stepped forward, holding his pistol out, and, softly, spoke.

“Ma’am?”

Her head snapped to the side and she stared back at him, letting out a cry as she spun to charge him, like the ones outside had done.

_BAM!_

***

_4:45 pm_

Ellis and Nick reached the second floor. The stairs led two ways—to the right led to the area Coach and Rochelle went to, but both doors up stairs were shut. To the left, on their side now, were two more doors. Ellis trotted up to the next door and tried the knob, but it stuck. Locked. He shook his head at Nick.

Nick frowned, stalking toward the second door with Ellis at his heels. The kid wasn’t nearly as talkative as he usually was, and again, it bothered Nick thoroughly.

“You doin’ okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Ellis said quickly. “I mean…” Nick looked back at him. Ellis had lowered his head, so the bill of his hat covered his face. “I’m worried ‘bout Keith.”

Nick grimaced, the name—and person—made his head hurt. “Why?”

“Well, ‘cause he’s my buddy—”

“I meant why do you think anything could happen to him? Didn’t you tell me that he jumped off a roof and had not even a bruise?”

Ellis’ head jerked up, his blue eyes glinting in the light. “You ‘member?”

Nick felt hot behind the ears and he spun on his heel to look at the door they reached. “I’m a detective, I’m supposed to. Doesn’t mean anything,” he said, too quickly he knew.

He tried the door and pushed it open, bringing his gun up. He slowly made his way into the very narrow hallway with Ellis backing him up. A few steps led him to a right turn, and he stuttered to a stop.

A large balcony awaited them, and Ellis bumped into him when he had stopped. The heat of the day had gotten cooler with the sun lowering west, and the trees covered most of it, shading them. The balcony held a few white tables with flower centerpieces, but what really made Nick stop was the amount of _birds_ that had accumulated there. They were crows—or ravens, Nick was no bird watcher—and they looked toward the men too intelligently for comfort.

“Whoa,” Ellis said, pushing the bill of his cap up as he squinted at the birds. “Lots of ‘em.”

“Rats with wings,” Nick muttered under his breath.

“Ain’t that pigeons?”

“Any bird is a rat.”

Ellis laughed, and Nick glanced at him. The boy’s face lit up, like his worry hadn’t even been there a few minutes ago. Nick cracked a small smirk, stepping forward. The birds didn’t move, which just creeped Nick out even more.

“They carry diseases, you know,” Nick scowled at them, waving a hand. One crow hopped away but didn’t leave the balcony.

“Aw, they don’t look sick t’me,” Ellis smiled at the birds.

Nick snorted, rolling his eyes. He started walking around the balcony, ignoring just how creepy all the birds were with their staring. Silent and staring, not even making a single sound.

“Jesus Christ,” Nick muttered. “Is that—” He moved forward to the curve of the balcony. In the corner was what appeared to be legs, and as Nick got closer, he covered his mouth with a hand, holding back a gag. The birds were feasting on a body. Whether the man was like those outside or not, or even how he died could not be figured out from just the appearance.

“Damn,” Ellis sounded beside him. He headed toward the body when Nick grabbed his arm, yanking him back.

“Let me,” he moved forward, though he did catch the chagrined look on Ellis’ face. “I’m the detective, remember?” he added, and it seemed to make the kid feel better. Not that Nick cared.

He moved to the body; hand dropped to his side. He used the hand holding his magnum to shove the birds away—they hadn’t even flown away the closer Nick got, and he had to physically shove them.

The man was mostly skeletal from his chest up. His shirt was torn, leading Nick to assume he had been wounded there, because most of his body was still intact under the clothes. His neck, head and arms though were just bones. Blood had pooled under him, and Nick noticed dried blood handprints on the balcony railing. It was like a person jumped over the side. And down to the ground. Nick leaned over, only seeing those things down there walking back and forth. He turned back to the body. He patted himself down for gloves, grimacing when he came up empty. Using his handkerchief instead, he reached into the pockets of the dead man’s pants until he found a wallet. Backing up, Nick went back to Ellis with the item. He flipped it open and Ellis leaned over his shoulder to look as well.

His hat jabbed Nick’s head and he scowled, pushing the trooper aside.

“Says here he was a Marcus Forrester. Thirty-two, lives on Spencer road… doesn’t look dressed for the wedding. He’s got jeans on.”

“Think he was here for th’tour?”

“Probably,” Nick shrugged. “No idea how the guy died, but someone jumped off the side. Sure it wasn’t your buddy?”

“Keith wouldn’t hurt a fly! I mean, there was this one time he was starin’ an owl down and then the owl lunged at him and tried to peck his eyes out—”

“ _Hayseed,_ I was joking,” Nick snapped.

“Oh,” Ellis laughed bashfully.

“Anyway, nothing else up here.” Nick looked around again—and once more, nothing came up. The birds were silent, staring still.

“Makes ya think of that one poem by that old guy, yeah?” Ellis grinned.

Nick turned to stare at him. “What?”

“Y’know! We had t’read his stuff in class once,” Ellis scratched his nose. “Uh, what was it…”

“Are you _serious—”_

“Don’t tell me!” Ellis waved at him, stepping away as he tapped his foot, thinking.

“Kid—”

“Almost…”

“Sport!”

“Gotta be…”

“ _Ellis!”_

The man in question spun to face Nick, grinning with such a wicked smile that Nick swore he had planned it all.

“Y’said my name,” he said happily.

“To shut you up.”

“Y’don’t say my name a lot, y’know.”

“It’s a stupid name,” Nick glared at him. “ _Ayl-us._ ”

“I don’t think ya mean that!”

Nick shook his head, smirking as he turned to head back the way they came.

“Hey, Nick—”

He stopped, turning to look back at Ellis. “What?”

“Ain’t those things people?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“So we’re shootin’ folks?”

Nick shrugged. “They tried to attack us.”

“I think they’re zombies,” Ellis said seriously, causing Nick to snort.

“What?”

“Look,” he gestured over his shoulder. Nick headed to the railing of the balcony and looked over. A man and a woman were biting into each other’s arms, tearing into each other viciously.

“Holy hell—” Nick stepped back.

“See? Real zombies, Nick!”

“Gotta be a reasonable explanation,” Nick muttered, rubbing his forehead and then buried his fingers into his hair. He smoothed his hair back before he turned away again. “We need to get back to the main hall, it’s—“ he lifted his wrist to check the time.

_4:56_

“Three minutes.”

“Yeah, let’s get goin’,” Ellis nodded, moving after Nick.

Before they could take another step towards the small narrow hallway, a sound made them stop, frozen in place.

_BAM!_

The birds, at last, began to screech and scream, wings flapping and pounding as they all began to panic and fly, cawing out loudly.

Human like screams returned the call, and Nick and Ellis looked to each other, and then back at the balcony. They could _hear_ people trying to climb their way up. The two bolted, making it back to the stairway and slamming the door shut. Nick kept a hand on the knob and Ellis ran to push a heavy chair across the carpeted floor to the door, pushing it against the wood. They stepped back and flinched when _things_ crashed into the door, pounding, and banging and screeching.

Ellis and Nick pointed their guns at the door, but it held, and they slowly lowered their weapons.

“We need t’get back!” Ellis said, spinning around as Nick nodded. He moved to follow, glancing back at the door one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! I do not have someone to beta my work, so please forgive me for any mistakes you might find!


	4. Hall - Lounge

The two jogged across the foyer, throwing open the double doors into the dining room. At the other end, Rochelle leaned heavily on the door, covering her mouth like she was going to be sick. They rushed to her side, with Ellis reaching a hand to her back and the other on her arm. Nick passed by, looking into the hallway. He looked left and spotted his partner, leaning heavily on the wall with a gun pointed in front of him. Nick moved his way, turning his head to look the way Coach did.

Two corpses laid there, the woman that lunged at Coach had fallen backwards on him, with a single shot to the face taking her down. Nick covered his mouth, eying the man beneath her.

“She was like the others?”

“Yeah,” Coach said simply. “Came right at me—her face was so messed, Nick.” He shook his head and lowered his gun at last.

Nick crouched down, looking the woman over. He used his sleeve to pat her down and find her wallet. He flipped it open and frowned, speaking aloud.

“Vicki Edmonds?”

“What?” Rochelle leaned into the hall, looking their way. She gently pushed Ellis away as she headed over to the two men. “What did you say?”

“I said Vicki Edmonds.” He passed the wallet over and then did the same to the man beneath her.

“Let me guess,” Rochelle said slowly as Nick pulled the wallet from the man’s pants. “Arnold Palmer?”

“How the hell did ya know that?” Nick looked her way in surprise.

“These were the two people that were connected to the chemical plant in Farfield,” Rochelle said slowly. To Ellis’ and Nick’s confused looks, she filled them in quickly to the information she gave Coach. When she finished, Nick was pacing and grinning to himself, while Ellis rubbed the back of his neck, still confused.

“I don’t get it… how come they’re here?”

“I don’t know,” Rochelle shrugged, “but it can’t be a coincidence that first an explosion happens at a chemical plant they worked at, and _then_ they are here, where people are turning into man eating monsters?”

“Zombies,” Ellis corrected.

“What?”

“They’re zombies, Ro.”

Rochelle stared at him for a long moment before she turned to the corpses. Vicki did not look at all like she had been alive recently, her skin had gone grey, pasty, blood everywhere.

“I guess,” she relented slowly, figuring at least having a name to these things was better than thinking they had killed a living human.

“I say for now, we stick together,” Coach said, rolling his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Ellis agreed with Rochelle giving a nod. Nick was silent, still pacing before he noticed they were looking at him.

“What? Yeah, sure, whatever,” Nick nodded.

“Alright, let’s keep goin’ down this hall,” Coach said, pointing back to the hall, heading right of the door back to the dining room. They passed the dining room, with Ellis casting a quick glance in before they continued. Three doors awaited them—double doors at the end, and two single doors on their left side. Pictures adorned the walls, but they were all old looking and nothing stood out to the foursome.

“Let’s open each of these doors at the same time,” Coach said, approaching the first door. Nick walked past and headed straight for the double doors, and Ellis took hold of the second door’s knob. On the count of three, each tried their respective doors.

“Locked,” Coach and Nick said together, while the door Ellis was at swung open, in the middle of the two older men. They grouped back up and Coach stepped first into the room, peering around with a gun at the ready. Nick went in next, with Rochelle in the middle and Ellis coming in last.

The room they walked into was very clearly a lounge, with a large grand piano in the middle of the room, and an equally large bar to the left of the room. Coach walked past both, peering down the right side of the room that had bookcases littering the walls, pictures of a countryside and animals decorated the room.

Nick went for the bar, slipping behind it and crouching down. He peered at the empty glasses and full bottles of liquor and wine, and when he spotted bottles of sealed water, he grabbed four. He set each down on the top of the bar and cleared his throat. “Water.”

“God, yes,” Rochelle grabbed one and twisted the lid off. Ellis and Coach moved over next, taking their own and starting to chug. Nick took his and finally did the same, room-temperature water wasn’t the greatest, but it satisfied their thirst. The heat, the running, the panic and fright had them parched.

Rochelle sagged into a chair beside the wall, stretching her legs out. Coach sat across from her, doing much the same. Ellis shut the door they came through and backed up to sit at the bar.

“Plan?” Nick asked to Coach, but his gaze was on the younger man. He found a glass and brandy and began to pour himself a liberal amount.

“Ain’t that stealin’?” Ellis glanced up at Nick.

“They have zombies in their house trying to kill us, they deserve to share their booze,” Nick winked at him before he finally looked to Coach.

“I figure we can settle down in here for a bit,” Coach shrugged, rubbing his left knee. “Maybe we can figure out somethin’ here. If there was one of those things inside, then chances are the rest of the house is dangerous.”

“There could be people in trouble,” Rochelle began slowly, which caught Coach’s and Ellis’ attention.

“She’s right, what if people need our help?” Ellis frowned, turning on the barstool to look at the duo at the table. “We need to search the house and help ‘em.”

“You got a hero complex or something?” Nick asked, sharp grey eyes on the younger man. “We need to figure out how to get out of here and get backup and _then_ they can work on saving people.”

“But we’re police,” Ellis frowned at Nick this time, and Nick shifted under his look. “We gotta help ‘em.”

“Risking my own neck right now doesn’t sound very _inviting,_ ” Nick gulped the brandy, wincing as it went down.

“He’s right, Nicky, we got a duty.”

“We also have a duty to protect her,” he gestured to Rochelle, “so you’re saying we put one civilian in danger to save an unknown—if any are even kicking—amount of survivors?”

“I think we should search the house,” Rochelle spoke up. “Something isn’t right here. Two ex-chemical plant workers are here, of all places, where this is all going on?”

 _That_ made Nick sing a different tune, grinning. “Putting it that way is what’s got my attention. So, you two can go play hero, and me and the smart chick can actually investigate what the hell is going on here.”

“I meant we still help people,” Rochelle shot Nick a glare.

Nick groaned, finishing his brandy. “Buncha freakin’ heroes.”

“If ya didn’t want to help people, why’d ya become a cop, then?” Ellis asked curiously, bright blue eyes landing on Nick curiously.

“Nunya,” Nick said, pouring a second glass. Coach chuckled and Rochelle rolled her eyes, but Ellis cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Wha’?”

“Nunya bizness,” Nick finished, punctuating it with a long drink from his glass.

“Alright then, Nicolas, no more drinkin’.” Coach stood. “We’re gonna need to start searchin’ for folks.”

“Where do you suggest we start with?” Nick asked, finishing his second glass before dropping it to the counter. “All the doors upstairs are locked.”

“There’s a door up top,” Rochelle said, “second floor above this room, I saw it downstairs. It wasn’t closed.”

“And no locked door ever gave ya problems a’fore,” Coach chuckled at Nick, which had both reporter and trooper looking Nick’s way with suspicion and interest, respectively.

“Don’t go spilling my secrets, _Darnell,_ ” Nick shot Coach a look, which the other only shook his head and laughed at.

“Alright folks, let’s get movin’.” Coach led the group out, with Nick casting a longing look at the bar that only Ellis seemed to notice before they moved back to the dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about how short this chapter is! I hope you still enjoy it!  
> Meanwhile, on Sims 4, Keith and Dave have moved next door to Nick and Ellis and now they _never leave,_ Nick can't stand it, especially when early in the morning Keith and Dave have dance battles when all Nick wants to do is watch some TV.


End file.
